Page 62

“What is it?” she asked, dismounting behind Aidan, aware of his sense of urgency.

“An old Roman fort,” he said, leading their mounts to an open area on the opposite side of the structure. Just as he returned, the first fat drops of rain fell from the sky, and Clarissa did not have to be told where to go. She ran past the ditch and into the only area with a roof. Aidan dove in after her.

As if it had only been waiting for them to find shelter, the sky opened with another loud crack.

The ditch in front of them began to fill as water sluiced from above. Clarissa looked at the puddles and then up as far as she could see from beneath their tenuous shelter. The roof seemed in danger of crumbling at any moment.

Finally, with nothing left to explore, she turned toward him.

Aidan either knew this place well or had no interest in examining it further, for he was already staring at her. Staring in a way that sent her heart straight to her throat. Was he thinking of the intimacies they’d shared? Of his hands on her breasts or—

“I missed you.”

She hadn’t expected that, not from the hungry way he was looking at her. But she couldn’t tell him about the ache of longing that had threatened to consume her while he was away. It would only make it harder . . . later.

“How was the meeting with my father?” Clarissa folded her fingers together in front of her, hoping it would keep them from touching him.

“Not well. He suspects that I am hiding you.”

Clarissa’s fingers flew apart. “Did he say as much? Did he accuse you—”

“I should start from the beginning.”

Listening to his account of the meeting, Clarissa became more and more agitated. They had searched Highgate Castle? She had come so close to being caught. Perhaps it would have been for the best had her father found her.

“Did you hear me?”

Indeed, she had not.

“I’m sorry. I just—”

Clarissa stumbled backward and sat on the crumbling stone bench behind her. Though it, like the entire structure, was beyond repair, enough of the original bench remained to give her a dry seat. Aidan claimed it was safe to return, that her father’s men found nothing, of course, and were long gone. That her father would be beholden to remove Caxton from power, just as he’d promised. They expected to receive word of the warden’s replacement any day. And when that happened, when a new warden was appointed—

“Clarissa?” He sat next to her, the rain continuing to fall around them, and took her hands in his. “I will not allow him to harm you.”

She knew she should pull away. She could not bear to. Instead, she shook her head. “Aidan, you do not understand my father. He will not rest until I am discovered.”

“So be it.”

Her eyes widened.

“Douglas knows our position. Clan Scott—”

“Cannot do this!” Clarissa stood once again, breaking the contact she so desired. He did the same, standing just inches away from her.

“I know you, Aidan,” she said. “You are the protector. Your responsibility is to the clan. If anything goes wrong,” she swallowed, her throat raw, “you will blame me, and rightly so.”

He reached for her again, cupping her face as if it were a fine piece of porcelain.

“You say my responsibility is to the clan. Clarissa, you are one of us. I offered my protection because I could never let anything happen to you. Marry me. Become my wife, and there will be no further questions about where you belong.”

A single tear escaped, unbidden, as his hands branded her. She could no sooner escape their grasp than she could keep running. Nor did she want to. But still, this was not right.

“You would marry me to protect me?”

“I would marry you because I love you.”

Oh God, Aidan. I love you too. But if I say the words, how could I ever leave you?